


It's Been a Hard Day's Night

by DmitriMolotov



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake AH Crew, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/pseuds/DmitriMolotov
Summary: No sooner had Ryan’s head hit the pillow, he was out cold.After what he’d been through, he deserved every scrap of sleep he could salvage. They could only pray he wasn’t prone to nightmares.“We should let him sleep,” Geoff said. “God knows he needs it.”The crew don't want Ryan to wake up alone, so they take turns staying with him while he sleeps.





	It's Been a Hard Day's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Sasha!  
> Now, I know I said I’d let him sleep – and to be completely fair, I did – but he did kinda have to earn it first. And by ‘earn’ I mean I did horrible things to him… again. But it was for a good cause, promise!

No sooner had Ryan’s head hit the pillow, he was out cold.

The others had never seen anything like it. It wouldn’t have surprised any of them if it was one of Ryan’s normal sleep habits they’d simply never had the privilege of observing.

Not that they’d consider this a privilege. This was a disaster and they were lucky to have Ryan back alive, let alone in one piece. After what he’d been through, he deserved every scrap of sleep he could salvage. They could only pray he wasn’t prone to nightmares.

“We should let him sleep,” Geoff said. “God knows he needs it.”

The others nodded vaguely, heading for the door, but Jeremy’s eyes lingered a little longer on Ryan. “I think I might just sit with him for a bit, just in case.”

Geoff frowned, but nodded, gesturing to the others to leave them.

Ryan had been checked and cleared for any signs of concussion, but it wasn’t a physical injury Jeremy was worried about.

He pulled out the chair from Ryan’s modest desk, dragging it to the side of the bed.  He turned on the lamp that sat on the bedside table, the soft yellow glow far more appealing than the stark white of the overhead light, which he quickly shut off. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the softer tones for just a second, taking in the room. It was typically Ryan. Practical, minimal, uncluttered except for the collection of knives that had begun to spill from their designated holders, or had been used for some mundane daily task and not returned. Slate grey bedsheets and pillowcases with a navy blue duvet that looked like it was due for a wash. Ryan looked peaceful, only half covered by the duvet, hair still greasy and wild, free about the pillow. His face was now clean of the paint residue that had streaked it for days previously, but the dark circles around his eyes were like bruises against his sickly pale skin.

Jeremy finally decided to settle on the chair beside the bed, pulling the duvet up to better cover Ryan and carefully brushing a strand of long dark hair from his face. Ryan didn’t even stir.

Jeremy sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of Ryan’s chest, imagining how good the rest must feel to Ryan; trying not to imagine all the horrors he had been through.

Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.

Ryan was missing for five days before they found him. He had been kept in a concrete bunker, unguarded, but only recently abandoned. Whoever had taken him had gotten enough of a head start and had the sense to get out of there before the Fakes arrived. It was a mystery why they hadn’t killed Ryan, but of all of them, only Ryan was willing to look a gift-horse in the mouth, and he wasn’t in any position to do so this time. The rest of the crew were simply glad to have found him at all.

When they had found Ryan, it was in a pitch-black room, deep within the bunker, with rock music playing unbearably loud from some unseen speaker. It was immediately reminiscent of military interrogation tactics – sleep deprivation. They quickly found the lights and the extent of Ryan’s treatment was illuminated.

Ryan’s shivering form was in the centre of the room, arms outstretched wide above his head, secured by coarse rope. He was forced to kneel at an awkward angle, but his body had long since given up trying to hold its own weight and now drooped, hanging forward, supported only by his wrists as he struggled for each breath. His shoulders were severely stretched and out of joint. His black hair, long since freed from it’s usual low ponytail, hung lank and matted in his face. Lines of crusted blood ran from his mouth and nose. The stench was something else entirely. It was clear this was where he’d been the entire five days he’d been gone.

As if that wasn’t enough, on a table nearby there was a cattle prod, cans of pepper spray, a jerry can and a washcloth.

Jeremy shivered at the memory.

They’d gotten Ryan down, tried to ask him questions; who did this to him? What did they want?

His reply was simply: “The wanted the Fakes.”

Why didn’t you tell them, Ryan?

“I couldn’t.”

That was all they’d managed to get out of him.

His clothes were ruined, his body was stressed and stretched and shaking uncontrollably, but otherwise he hadn’t been beaten or physically injured, aside from anything he may have sustained struggling against them when he still had his strength.

For five days straight, Ryan had been forced to stay awake and it had almost destroyed him.

Now, he looked so peaceful.

Any second now, Jeremy half-expected him to sit up screaming; wake up in a cold sweat ready to fight, to violently twitch himself awake, swinging punches… like he was prone to himself.

Nightmares often troubled Jeremy. There was nothing worse than waking up alone and having to convince yourself it was indeed, just a nightmare. So, he stayed; prepared to be there for Ryan the way Ryan had been there for him.

It took him a while to realise he’d been humming. He wasn’t even sure of the tune, but it was familiar and comforting, perhaps something saved from deep within his subconscious, or a long-forgotten memory. He couldn’t tell if it was more for himself or Ryan, but he didn’t stop at the realisation. It was some small comfort in the silence of the night.

Within the hour, without so much as a snore from Ryan, Jeremy had fallen asleep.

Jack had wandered in to inform Jeremy of food – Geoff had cooked burgers for everyone, like he often did when they stayed in the penthouse before or after a job.

Jeremy’s head was tipped back at what looked like a horrendously uncomfortable angle and he was snoring slightly, but Ryan hadn’t even stirred, completely oblivious to the other’s presence. Jack couldn’t help but smile and shake her head, gently putting a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezing to wake him up. Jeremy’s eyes snapped open, looked around at the familiar room and he immediately calmed down. Seeing Ryan still sleeping next to him, he let out an audible sigh.

Jack tipped her head towards the door. “Go eat something,” she said in a voice just above a whisper. “Then go to bed, I’ll stay and watch him for a while.”

Jeremy rubbed his eyes, feeling his stomach rumble at the promise of food. “I just don’t want him to wake up alone,” he said. “ _I_ wouldn’t want to wake up alone after that.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “I’ve eaten, I’ll stay with him. Go get some rest.”

Reluctantly, Jeremy made his way in the direction of the smell of food, while Jack snatched one of the superfluous pillows from Ryan’s bed and placed it on the chair Jeremy had been sitting on to pad it out.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, Ryan,” Jack muttered to herself, pulling the chair a little further away from the bed. She kept her voice soft, barely more than a whisper as she spoke to herself more than to Ryan, but she felt it needed to be said regardless, and now was as good a time as any. If she was lucky, maybe some of it would seep into Ryan’s subconscious while he was sleeping and actually make him think twice about his actions occasionally. But probably not.

She glared at Ryan, still sleeping peacefully, the faintest traces of his muscles twitching every now and then; the deep, steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring.

“You gotta stop setting yourself on fire to keep the rest of us warm.” She shook her head. “Especially in front of Jeremy, you know how impressionable he is.”

She wasn’t really worried about Jeremy. She was more worried about Ryan if she was honest. He had a knack for self-destructive behaviour, even if it was largely unintentional. He’d done himself no favours by not ratting them out to whoever was holding him captive. It wasn’t like the Crew were in desperate need of protecting. The policy was always “save your own skin first”. Do what you can to get out or minimise harm to yourself. Await rescue. Ryan knew that.

“You noticed too, huh?”

Geoff’s voice at the door made Jack jump.

“Goddammit Geoff, you scared the shit outta me,” she said, settling back in the chair.

Geoff wandered over to perch on the edge of Ryan’s desk, closer to Jack so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice. “Got the others looking into the bunker. Treycs thought it could be military.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Was it?”

Geoff shook his head. “Merryweather.”

“Fuck. Think he knew that?”

Geoff nodded. “Good chance. He’d’ve figured it out. Or guessed anyway. He was a merc. He knows mercs.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “Ok, so why didn’t he give us up? He knows the protocols on this sort of thing. Think he was protecting us? Or maybe he knew they’d kill him if he talked.”

Geoff shrugged and shook his head. “I dunno. So hard to tell with Ryan… If he knew it was Merryweather, he knew it was a big deal. Maybe he knew who they were working for.”

Ryan stirred slightly, twitching and shaking his head, his eyes squeezing shut tightly and his hands balling into fists gripping the blankets.

Jack and Geoff both noticed, exchanging a concerned look.

“We can have this conversation when he wakes up,” Geoff said.

“When he’s _ready_ ,” Jack corrected.

Geoff nodded solemnly. “You should get some sleep at some point too. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll swap out with you.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”

A few hours later, Jack yawned, stretched and quietly padded out of the room to find Geoff, who was already up and making coffee in preparation for the graveyard shift.

“Get some sleep.” Geoff waved Jack in the direction of her room and made his way to Ryan’s.

He put his coffee down next to his book on the bedside table, fluffing the pillow and repositioning the chair in the lamplight to better read. He settled in, fingers smoothing down the familiar yellowed edges of the book he’d read maybe half a dozen times before. He spent the first hour of his shift quietly reading, only half paying attention to his book, thoughts continually wandering back to questions.

_Why were Merryweather involved? Who was paying them? Why hadn’t Ryan just given them up?_

Geoff sighed, putting his book down and folding his hands to rest his chin on as he leaned into his elbows, eyes staying on Ryan the whole time. “What was going through your head?”

As if in reply, Ryan stirred, took a deep breath in and held it, hands gripping the sheets tightly for just a moment before he relaxed completely back to sleep.

Geoff shook his head, remembering the setup they’d found him with. “What made you think we were worth it?”

The only response this time was a slight snore as Ryan unconsciously adjusted his head on the pillow.

Geoff went back to reading until the sky grew light and orange rays broke through the curtains.

“Geoff?” Michael’s head stuck through the door, the sound jolting Geoff awake. He’d just started drifting off.

“Michael? You’re up early.”

“Was going to hit the gym, but I’m not feeling it. If you wanna get some rest, I’m good to hang here for a bit in case he wakes up.”

Geoff was unable to stifle a yawn as he nodded. “Might have to take you up on that.”

Michael grinned. “Thought so.” He held up his Switch. “I came prepared.”

Geoff chuckled quietly. “You’re probably gonna need it, he really needs the sleep. Doubt he’ll be up anytime soon.”

As they traded places, Michael rolled his eyes. “No shit. He really went through the ringer, huh?”

Geoff just nodded.

“Still no idea why?”

Geoff shook his head. “If you can figure it out, I’d love to know.”

“Sure. Get some sleep, I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Michael settled in, opening the curtain slightly and switching off the lamp as the daylight began to brighten the room. He rapidly became engrossed in his game, hardly noticing the time pass as Ryan slept peacefully, only the occasional snore brought him back to the room.

The creak of the door opening startled him as Gavin crept in.

“Want some breakfast, boi?”

“Geoff’s up?” Michael asked, pausing his game, already salivating at the thought of Geoff’s bacon.

“Nah. Jack and Lil’ J are making a run out, there was talk of kolaches.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Michael enthused.

“Sweet, I’ll let ‘em know.” Gavin disappeared for a minute and Michael looked down at his game, about to resume playing, before thinking better of it and switching it off. He looked over at Ryan, checking to see he was still breathing, noting the aged bruising on his face from the initial scuffle, the way his stubble was growing in dark and coarse and peppered with grey. He looked too vulnerable. Michael supposed any of them would under the same conditions. It didn’t feel right.

Gavin returned without a word, crossing his legs and sitting on the floor across from Michael, following his gaze.

“I used to be scared of him, y’know?”

Michael laughed quietly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Not like, for real, but it wasn’t like with you or Jack or Lil’ J. He always seemed so…”

“Cold?” Michael suggested, feeling a pang of guilt.

“Yeah. He was always a bit aloof. Kept his distance. Made you wonder.”

“The mask and face paint probably didn’t help with that…”

Gavin giggled. “Probably not, huh?”

Michael sighed. “Never seen him like this before, though. He must’ve had a damn good reason for not talking.”

Gavin hummed agreement, pulling his knees up to his chest.

They sat in silence a long while, before Gavin eventually said, “What’d make you not talk? If you were there instead?”

Michael scoffed. “If they were doing to me what they were doing to him? God. Nothing.”

Gavin frowned. “I think… Maybe if I knew – and I’d have to be bloody sure – that they were going to kill you, I think maybe I wouldn’t talk.”

“Me? Specifically me?”

“Yeah. You’re my boi, Michael.”

Michael looked at him with an inquisitive and almost pitying smile.

“Would you do the same for me, boi?” Gavin’s grin was playful, but hopeful. There was genuine affection in his eyes and it warmed Michael’s heart to see.

“No!” He giggled. “Definitely not.”

“Michael!” Gavin cried, immediately checking his volume as he suddenly remembered Ryan sleeping in the room, before adding, “that’s not fair!”

Michael giggled again. “No, it’s not, but life isn’t fair, Gav.” He was still grinning, it was clear he didn’t mean it and Gavin knew it. “…and ok, maybe I’d stay quiet for you. _Maybe_.”

Gavin beamed, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t go getting smug on me, it’s only a maybe,” Michael warned, still grinning.

It was after midday when Jack and Jeremy returned with an assortment of breakfast foods, kolaches included. The commotion brought Geoff out of his room and the whole crew migrated into Ryan’s room to eat. Jack perched on the end of the bed with Geoff, careful not to disturb Ryan, while Jeremy joined Gavin on the floor. They were hardly silent about it, but they figured Ryan would need to wake to eat soon anyway, he’d been out for nearly 18 hours.

Food was distributed; kolaches, bacon and egg muffins with coffees and energy drinks all round.

“Totally breakfast food,” Michael enthused, stuffing a kolache into his mouth.

“Best breakfast food,” Jeremy agreed.

“How’d everyone sleep?” Geoff asked quietly.

Jack jerked her thumb at Ryan. “Probably not as well as him.”

Jeremy shook his head. “I didn’t sleep well,” he replied honestly.

“Yeah, me either,” Geoff agreed. “Though I fucking will tonight. The last few days have been stressful as dicks.”

“You could say that again,” Michael said, grabbing another kolache.

The was a loud hum from Ryan, a snort and yawn as he gradually woke up. The others all unintentionally pausing to watch.

It took Ryan a long few moments to puzzle out where he was, but when he did, he was even more confused by the sight of the crew eating breakfast in his bedroom, staring at him.

“Hi…?”

The crew continued to stare in silence for a beat before Jack snapped out of it.

“Ryan. Are you ok?” She asked. “How are you feeling?”

Ryan took a minute to prop himself up on his elbows and look around, satisfying his senses that yes, this was in fact real and not a dream or hallucination.

“I’m… I’m ok, I think,” he said. “Still tired as fuck, but goddamn, am I glad to be here.”

“Do you remember anything more of what happened?” Geoff asked, before immediately reconsidering his question. “Shit, that’s not what I meant… I meant uh, like, uh, about who they were and what they wanted… why, uh, why you didn’t give them what they wanted.”

Ryan shook his head, chuckling a little at Geoff’s tactlessness. It didn’t bother him that much in honesty. If there was one thing he was great at, it was compartmentalising.

“Geoff, relax. I’m ok,” he assured him. “I realised when they picked me up they were mercenaries, so I was careful.” He winced involuntarily at the recollection.

The others visibly tensed up, but Ryan continued, trying to push down the more visceral memories.

“As soon as I knew it was Merryweather, I knew it was trouble. I couldn't sell out the Fakes.”

Jack shook her head. “But the you know the pr-”

“Protocol. Yeah. I know.”

“So then why? Why go through all that?”

Ryan chewed his still swollen lip.

“Ryan-” Geoff started.

“You know what I could do without right now?” Ryan said, a grin forming on his bruised face. “A lecture.”

The others couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Geoff’s smiled sadly. “You’re never gonna learn, are you?”

Ryan shook his head. “Probably not.”

“So, why didn’t you just give us up, tell them where we were?” Michael asked, genuinely curious.

“I had my reasons.”

Gavin snorted. “They must’ve been bloody good.”

Ryan looked away. “They were.”

“So good you can’t tell us?” Jeremy tried, cautiously.

Ryan huffed, still reluctant. “It was selfish of me.”

The crew exchanged confused looks.

“Look, you probably could’ve handled it. But I had no way of knowing that. Merryweather is bad news. As far as my line of thinking was concerned at the time, I couldn’t risk it,” Ryan explained bluntly. He hesitated for a moment, considering his next words. “It wouldn’t be worth leaving there if I couldn’t come back to _this_.”

“This?” Gavin asked.

Ryan looked down again, a faint colour tinting his cheeks, before grinning and looking back up at them. “Why are y’all in my room?”

They caught on quickly, looks of realisation spreading across their faces, but Jeremy answered anyway, “We didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Ryan just nodded. “That.”

A sense of warmth seemed to fill the room, and no one was quite sure how to react to it.

“And yeah,” Ryan said. “It was worth it.”

Ryan smiled. There was never any doubt in his mind, _they_ were worth it.

“Now… which one of you fuckers is going to give me the kolaches, I’m starving.”


End file.
